Why I Should Not Have Been The Tenth Walker
by Seryan Parks
Summary: Explaining to Elrond why I was the wrong choice for the tenth Fellowship member. Humor.
1. Chapter 1

To my Lord Elrond, in this last year of the Third Age

In Rivendell, Middle-Earth

From his servant, the (unwilling) tenth companion

My Lord Elrond,

When the Fellowship set out almost a year ago, I objected to your choice of me. If your daughter Arwen was so concerned about equal gender representation in the Fellowship, I argued, she should go herself. And if you were so determined to have a tenth companion, you should have sent someone more qualified, like Glorfindel. My strengths lay in bookkeeping and research, and I had no experience with a sword or axe, as you well knew. Nevertheless, you picked me to be the tenth companion, telling me that even the smallest person could make a difference (a jibe at my height?), and that the Fellowship would need all sorts of skills to survive. Let me tell you, Lord Elrond, not once was I called upon to research anything. Gandalf easily outstripped my meager knowledge of the Dark One or his arts or the path to Mordor.

I know, Lord Elrond, that you are accustomed to being right all the time- immortality will do that to you. But I write this letter to let you know how very wrong you were. I mean, nine men and one (young) woman? In what reality does such a situation ever work out?

You have also asked me to account for Frodo's… condition. This will be explained in due time, my lord. But allow me to begin at the beginning.

* * *

The Nine Companions stood before you, and you said something about nine walkers for nine Nazgûl, when your daughter, the Lady Arwen, stormed into our midst. She demanded that a woman be put on the Fellowship. Did you think women were uncapable of great deeds? Creatures only fit for the kitchen? No, put a woman on the Fellowship and show your support for women's rights.

I do not condone misogyny at all, but I will stay in the kitchen for the rest of my life if it means that I will never have to go on another adventure ever again.

Because I was the only woman summoned to the castle and some distant cousin of Aragorn, you decided (over my loud protests) that I would be the tenth walker, and the Fellowship set out later that day for Mordor. It was the beginning of the end for me.


	2. Chapter 2

I am sure you know, Lord Elrond, that upon leaving Rivendell, that we originally decided (read: Gandalf decided, we went along with) to make for the Redhorn Gate and from there, strike for Mordor. The winding paths we took south of Rivendell were treacherous and the land was unfriendly. More than once I fell into a bog. (And I got out by myself, thank you very much.) We made it to Hollin, averaging about ten miles a day. Night, rather, because we traveled by night to avoid any spies of Saurman. Once we were in Hollin, we could clearly see the Misty Mountains, and for the love of Eru I could not get Gimli to shut up about all the mines there. We had weary days of his chatter. Do you know what a singing Dwarf sounds like, Lord Elrond? It sounds like an avalanche.

It was in Hollin that we first encountered spies of Saruman. It was decided (by Gandalf again) that Redhorn was too dangerous.

To make a long and uncomfortable story short, we tried to go over Caradhras. We failed.

Have you ever seen Caradhras, Lord Elrond? It's freaking huge. And some idiot only packed me frilly dresses and impractical skirts. They were things that I would wear normally, but after two weeks of hiking in skirts, I was done. When we stopped for our meal and rest, I took scissors and needles to the damned things and made myself some pants.

And my dear cousin Aragorn glares at me and says, "Ladies shouldn't wear trousers!"

I had tried to go unnoticed and present as little of a problem as possible, but right then I broke my silence and told Aragorn what he could do with his trousers. That was actually one of the pleasant parts of the journey apparently since I could curse, I was worthy of respect or something.

While I had the scissors out, I cut off almost all of my curly blond hair. (Legolas cried.) It was a nuisance and I just wanted to blend in with the men of the Company. And sure enough, they started treating me like 'one of the guys.'

We made good time at first, but were soon slowed by… well, by the mountain itself. The paths aren't very good at the best of times, and sometimes they were really narrow or blocked by rocks from a landslide. On the left of our narrow path was the sheer height of Caradhras; on the right, a gulf of blackness with a ravine at the bottom.

And then it began to snow. Soon it was so thick that I could barely see Pippin (or was it Merry?) in front of me, and he was less than three feet away.

Suddenly Gandalf (he was in front) stopped and he talked with Aragorn. "It is as I feared. What do you say now, Aragorn?"

"That I feared it too, but less than other things. I knew the risk of snow, though it seldom falls so heavily so far south, save high up in the mountains. But we are not high yet; we are still far down, where the paths are usually open all the winter."

"This smells fishy if you ask me," I put in. "Well, less like fish and more like fire and brimstone. It smells like Mordor. Like, Sauron." Boromir agreed with me.

Gimli said something in that rocky voice of his that unsettled me. "His arm has grown long indeed if he can draw snow down from the north to trouble us three hundred leagues away."

Gandalf's answer was even more unsettling. "His arm has grown long."

It was then that I realized something. This was a big deal. That ring around Frodo's neck was a Big Deal. This was serious, and I would probably die on this quest.

Soon it started snowing harder. Gandalf seemed nonchalant, but I could tell he was worried when he started passing around that Elven liquor. We all got a sip, but it ultimately did no good. Caradhras had beaten us. All that remained was to get off the mountain (which was a task in itself), and off the mountain we got. I swear that the mountain was laughing.


End file.
